


Drive Thru

by Ylevihs



Series: How Not to Fall [48]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Farm Headcanons, Retribution Spoilers, canon typical angst, reference to minor ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylevihs/pseuds/Ylevihs
Summary: Richard and Boris make their way to Rangers' HQ
Series: How Not to Fall [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327892
Kudos: 18





	Drive Thru

Whatever was left of Sidestep in Richard’s heart—along with a few newer voices—was screaming at him. He couldn’t just leave her behind. Not to deal with Argent or the jail system but. But once they saw what she was? Argent had no reason not to turn the regene immediately over to “the proper authorities”. No reason not to book her and forget about her as just one more fight in a long list of dailies. And she would be hauled off. Back. Back to. 

Richard’s stomach rolled again. Nothing left to surge up his throat but stomach acid. Bitter and caustic and taking its time judging his home décor on its way to his mouth. They’d interrogate her. Would they part her out? She wouldn’t be in too bad shape even after her fight with Argent. Not that that would stop them. Would they go through the trouble of punishing her? Only if they wanted to use her again for something. If she could be replaced. Had already been replaced with a newer and quicker. A quick pump of potassium chloride and then they had so much material to work with. And even if they didn’t have anyone waiting in the wings for her extra bits, then she. They’d. 

Words. Probably directed at him. Easy to ignore. If was important they’d. He’d. Bo would just say it again. Richard hummed without any real commitment. 

And he’d left her to it. He’d seen a chance to step in and maybe. No. Couldn’t do that to himself. Couldn’t do that. She was in no place to even accept his help. She hadn’t even known to cry out for it in the privacy of her own thoughts. If he’d come to her aid, she would have thought it was an attack—and not without good reason. Anything he could have offered her would not have changed her desire to kill him and get Regina back. Didn’t have it in her to imagine a reality where she didn’t have to obey her orders. The only offer he could have made would have been a more dignified death than the Farm was going to give her. 

It was a bad lie. Sitting massive and hideous on his shoulders. Hissing and cackling lowly. 

It hadn’t taken him long to hear the seductively thin whisper of freedom in his ear when they’d started sending him out into the world. Maybe she had been hearing them too. Was she one of the few that thrived inside their strict regime, content to excel in her role? Or was she. 

Words again.

“What?” not a bark, at least. An unkind enough sound to make Bo shift in his seat and turn his gaze back out the front window. 

“Then where to, Boss?” Bo fiddled with something and Richard saw the tinting of the windows shift and slide. Easy to see out of—almost impossible to see in. A neat little feature that Richard was sure hadn’t been installed on the car two days ago. 

Where.

“Ranger’s Headquarters,” shot out of his mouth halfway through his mind trying to process the question. Unsure if that was the Rat King firing them out or his own anxiety or. Now Boris’ own tight unease. He’d been hoping for something like Joes, or some secret secondary base that he didn’t know about yet. Or hell, even camping out at the Burger Buddy Drive Thru parking lot was a better option than. Just how much were the Rangers involved in... whatever it was that this job was? How many of them? Clearly Charge and Herald but what about Steel? Had Lady Argent shown up to fight that woman to--. And what about the reporter? Didn’t Mad Dog hate the Media?

“Focus on the road, Bo,” Were they not just going to arrest them both when they rolled up out of nowhere out front. Serving themselves up on a platter?

“Yes sir,” Bo’s thoughts continued to slip their way in, skidding and sliding around on the ice and making no effort to be subtle or quiet. That he sounded like hell. That whoever that other woman had been, the one they’d kidnapped, she was clearly important. And not around for the moment. Charge and Miss Ochoa hadn’t left with her. But maybe. Was she still back there? Sitting in the rubble? He hadn’t seen Herald still hanging around, after all. Mad Dog didn’t kill but that didn’t mean. 

“Bo.”

“Yeah?”

Couldn’t tell him to shut up. Or to just take it easy. His concerns were legitimate. He hadn’t signed up to go to prison for Mad Dog. And his unsteady thoughts still managed to raise up good points from the depths of. “Pull over for a minute, I need to get out of my armor,” mild confusion tempered with relief. At least he wouldn’t be seen driving up to the Rangers’ HQ with one of the city’s most well-known villains. 

“Got it. Your bag is under the back seat,” he offered, turning smoothly into an alley behind an old apartment building. Not the world’s best dressing room, but it would have to do.  
Richard unclipped his seatbelt with a tight sound, turning in his seat to grope around the floor of the back until his fingers hit on the heavy plasticky fabric. It hadn’t been too much of a risk, keeping the change of clothes in the cars Boris drove for him. Bo didn’t stop the engine, leaving it purring as a sort of self-comfort. Richard couldn’t blame him. This was turning into one hell of a day for everyone. 

He stepped out of the car as Bo popped open the trunk for him to stuff the armor into when he was free of it. The Rat King pulsed out little bursts in every direction. There were alley cats nearby. Living rats—which earned an interesting pip of excitement and interest from the Rat King—and pigeons. No people, as far as they could tell. At least not outside or near any of the windows. Richard sent out a little scratch under the chin for them for their help and slid the helmet off, stowing it into the bag and watching as it stretched to accommodate. As far in as he could shove it. It had been an ingenious little invention of Mortum’s. Fabric that could stretch and stretch like that. It had cost him a pretty penny just to get a prototype version of it. Gauntlets next, then vambraces, then. Piece by piece. Didn’t take nearly as long as it used to, which was a saving grace. 

Muscle memory in his fingers and soon he was left in only the black skin suit. His go bag had clothing that could cover it, a long-sleeved turtleneck and corduroy pants. By the time he had jumped back into the front seat with Bo, he was back to being some vaguely frumpy and put upon math teacher. 

A tired teacher, who then made the mistake of catching his reflection in the rearview mirror. The stress showed on his face well enough for.

Boris’ thoughts made an uncomfortable turn and Richard felt his fingers curling in tight, fingernails pressing to his palms in sharp semi circles. He didn’t voice any of his thoughts, though, and that would have to be enough for now. He reversed out of the alley in blessed. Cursed. Silence. 

It gave Richard’s thoughts enough time to circle back and turn back in on themselves, grinning madly. He wasn’t the first and only regene to ever escape. The rumors of them had reached even his isolated and unwanted ears. There were never names attached to the stories—it was always ‘did you hear’ and ‘don’t you know about’. Someone had gotten out. Someone had gotten free. And the emotions to accompany the rumors had ranged from envy to fury to. Even if only one of the stories was true, that meant there was one other person like him, out there and trying to find their way. There was probably more than one, but the idea of that. Of. 

He’d still never figured out how they found him the first time. And although Regina and her lackeys had come up with hundreds of different ways to taunt him with how they’d figured him out, none of them had rung completely true. They’d claimed there were spies following him since the day he escaped. Claimed that Charge had ratted him out. Steel had done it. Anathema had. The old woman Richard had rented his first bedroom from. Claimed they’d seen the lower half of his face and made connections. Claimed they’d tracked him down by the implant at the base of his spine. They’d claimed a great many things. All terrifying. None quite slotting into place. And many of them contradicting one another. 

Had a fellow escapee seen and recognized him? It seemed unlikely. But. If _she_ wanted to escape. Even if it was the smallest blip on her own internal radars. If she had ever wanted out, he’d essentially hamstringed any hope she could ever have of realizing that dream. 

He’d sentenced her back to. To. 

An electrical hum. The car slowing. Stopping? There was a car stopped ahead of them but no sign of a traffic signal. A sharp crackle. Snap. Pop. Popping? A young woman’s voice asking to. To?

 _What?_ Richard blinked himself hard back into the moment, heavy fog wavering nervously as he looked over through Bo’s window to see the menu of a.

“Burger Buddy?” what the fu—oh. _Oh_. Bo had asked him if he wanted food—the question had been glossed over and ignored in favor of yelling at himself. Bo was looking at him expectantly and. Words. Words would be good right about now instead of a large mouthed bass impression. 

“Uh. A Strawberry milkshake?” he tried. Boris nodded without judgment and fed that order back to the microphone. As Bo placed the rest of his order, Richard felt his hands rising up to rub over his face. Hard enough to see stars. He needed to get it together. 

Needed to stop. Whatever it was his brain was doing to him. If Argent brought the regene back to Rangers’ Headquarters…there was still something he might be able to do for her. He might. Could he talk with her? Do something to convince her that even if she did get Regina back and return her to the farm, there was no way anything good was waiting for her back there.

Shelved those thoughts because there was a laminated paper cup being handed to him along with a small? Oh. Pouch of tater tots. Smelling salty but otherwise of nothing much besides fryer grease. It occurred to him that he was simply staring at the two items in his hands right around the time Bo cleared his throat nervously. 

“Just seemed like you needed a pick me up?” a tip toe guess. Not wanting to overstep whatever weird and jagged boundaries served to divide them. Employee and Boss, sure. But. Bo liked him well enough. Liked the lack of violence on the average job and the fact that his paychecks were often made out for _more_ than what had originally been agreed on. And Richard liked that even though Bo had a tendency to think quite a lot of questions, he rarely asked any of them. 

“Thanks,” more hollow sounding than he wanted it to be, but Richard’s brain was still playing catch up. The speed of the car clipped back up to an easy five miles over the speed limit and Richard found himself sipping on the drink. There was a brief grumble from his taste buds that it was sickly sweet and painfully artificial tasting. It was silenced by the roll of his stomach, happy to have anything at all coming down in instead of back up. Something else inside of him wished it was a beer, or something much stronger, coming to help numb him. He munched a grease filled pocket of potato sludge instead.

Bo’s fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. Wanting to ask but not being able to find the courage lurking behind his ears. He merged seamlessly onto the freeway, headed towards.   
“You can drop me off a block away,” his voice sounded thick and he blamed it on the sugar in the milkshake. Easier than acknowledging the bubbling pit of dread growing in his gullet. He set the tater tots aside. 

He was going to have to see how Regina was doing. And he was going to have to see it inside a compound filled to the brim with. They had holding cells there. Private doctors. It was still unlikely Daniel would be able to get her in without answering at least a few questions. Catching a few unwanted glances. Which would lead to unwanted phone calls. Which would lead to.

Who would find out first? Carmichael’s contacts or the special directive? And then. They couldn’t keep her there. Couldn’t leave her there for very long, it would risk the lives of everyone in that building and. Her life wasn’t worth theirs. Not by a long shot. He didn’t want her dead. Things would be infinitely harder with her dead. But. Didn’t want civilians to die even more. If it came down to it, he knew which he would choose to save.

He hoped. 

Bo’s shoulders dropped down a solid three inches in relief. “You got it,” the fingers stopped tapping. “I’ll stay close--,”

“You shouldn’t need to,” and even if no one at HQ called to report something fishy going on, if that one regene could track Regina. Not the computer, hadn’t cared about the computer. Then that meant that others could as well. Boris had seen the special directive before, but Richard had been there to get him out and away before things had gotten dicey. Before he’d actually had to fight them. There was a gun in the glove compartment—it wouldn’t be enough. Not if a full unit showed up. The best way to deal with that was to not be around to deal with it. “I’ll call you, but you should be free to go after you let me out,” 

If you’re sure, Bo didn’t say. “Got it, boss. I’ll be there if you need anything,”


End file.
